


and stick it into someone else's heart

by Lizzen



Series: the gravity of love [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: After care, Aliens Made Them Do It, Angst, F/F, Sex Pollen, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:46:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: Things Lena doesn’t know: Rhea planned for everything.Or, a Daxam wedding tradition gone very, very wrong.Post s2 finale.





	1. how it began

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thanks to my th_esaurus <333

Things Lena doesn’t know: Rhea planned for everything.

*  
It’s not everyday that a Luthor wakes up after an alien invasion, after _saving the world_ ; safe and sound and still a little drunk. Lena finds her way into a bespoke suit and her favorite Louboutins and seems to wake up the moment she enters her office. Everything’s a little shattered -- yesterday was a Whole Thing -- and there’s a bright red dress still crumpled up on the floor. 

She shivers a little, looking at it and knowing what it meant. Rhea would have twined her irrevocably to a man, a man she didn’t love, a man who loved another, an _alien_. It would have been a farce, of course, a complete sham; but the queen would have made sure they were shackled to each other. A union not just in name, but in soul if Rhea’s scientists actually created a baby from locks of hair. 

Lena’s eyes narrow and something like a sneer grows on her lips. _No_ , she thinks. _Never_.

Crimson fills her vision as her gaze lingers. On the ship, she had disrobed in full company - two armed guards and the queen herself, who helped Lena into the dress, made small adjustments, and looked pleased as punch after. “Red suits you,” she had said. “Go fuck yourself,” Lena had replied. 

Scissors came to mind, ripping the dress to shreds, and throwing into a dumpster. 

She leans over, and her hands touch fabric. It’s warm against her skin, as if recently worn, and it seems to shudder in her grip, like some kind of living thing. When she gasps, something fills her lungs other than air.

“Supergirl,” is the first word out of her mouth as she knows, she knows she’s in trouble, she knows something dreadful is about to happen, she knows--

\--and that’s when she feels a fire in her veins, burning her deep with the lick of flames ravaging every inch of her. Her mouth opens, somewhat slack, and a moan rises out. She feels the heat hold her close, and find a centerpoint. Find a place to flourish and flower and force her to push her hand between her legs, a little pressure to alleviate the growing pain. 

She’s not fully lost to it, she’s slightly aware still, and she knows she’s utterly fucked. 

Images appear rapidly in her mind; of faces, of skin exposed, of certain positions, of things she’s never done with any lover. Flushed cheeks redden further, and _want_ drives her. 

Her phone’s in her hands before she realizes she’s done it. And her fingers hit buttons till it rings, and there’s something like hope that battles the rising heat. 

“Lena,” Kara says, sounding falsely cheerful, and Lena vaguely remembers that Mon-El is forever lost to her, vaguely remembers that Kara loved him. 

“K-k-kara,” Lena tries, and is lost to a series of heaving breaths. 

“Lena,” Kara repeats, serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Rhea did s-s-something,” she gets out. “Superrr,” she says. “-giiiirl,” she slurs out. “Need her h-help.” 

“You need me to contact Supergirl?” Kara says, sounding more and more strained. 

“Help,” Lena says before moaning out again and having to unbutton pants and get at--get to-- her fingers find her clit and linger there, and the relief is only slight. 

“She’ll be right there,” Kara says and the line goes dead.

Lena leans heavily against a wall, and works herself quickly to a climax, a rousing and full sensation that makes her shudder from head to foot. And she hopes, she hopes it will be over, just an embarrassing--

But: no. _no_. 

The flame burns brighter inside of her, and the rising desire is suddenly, and utterly worse. She wants, oh how she wants, and her skin seems to sing in longing for touch. 

_Some alien poison_ , she thinks, _twisted, twisted horror_. And she thinks: _this could have been my wedding night._

The true and very real feeling of revulsion blossoms inside of her, competing all too briefly with the suffocating desire. 

Something seems to whisper inside of her: _but how you would loved it, his hands on your skin, his tongue against your lips, his--_

There’s a whoosh of air and a ripple of energy in the room as Supergirl lands on her balcony. Her hands are fists. “What’s wrong--” she says before Lena makes fast strides across the room and grips the crinkle of her cape at her shoulder, and pulls Supergirl close. 

“Help me,” Lena gets out before she, she, she pushes in and presses her lips firmly against Supergirl’s, and the fire in her blood cools slight, slightly. And something like pleasure, real pleasure, builds in her belly. 

But there are hands, grip tight as a vise, pushing her away, pushing her to arm’s length. “Lena--”

A yearning _unnatural_ overwhelms her and she cries out, fighting uselessly against Supergirl’s hold. 

“The dress, it’s alive. Did this. We can analyze it after -- after,” and she sobs. “You’ll know how to stop this, stop me,” she says. “Help me.”

What Lena doesn’t know: while her eyes are wild, the rest of her looks, looks stunning; compelling, even. Kara has to shake her head to focus, to see her friend, not--not-- _beloved._

“I feel it too,” Supergirl says quietly. “It’s a Daxam wedding tradition, I suppose.”

“Sh-sh-she said we wouldn’t have to--,” Lena starts. “Bottle babies, didn’t need me to fuck him for-- why--”

Supergirl hesitates before: “Custom, maybe. To hurt both of you, definitely.”

“What’s the cure, other than, other than--” and Lena pushes against Supergirl’s grip, her skin on fire where fingers meet flesh. 

Supergirl curses something strange and her eyes are black with rage. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen this before.” And Lena’s heart drops. “I could take you to the Fortress, at least the ice might be good--” and Lena thinks of being pressed against Supergirl in the moments it takes her to fly north, and she smiles, and she shudders. 

“Look, it’s just sex,” Lena interrupts without thinking, her usual filters lost. 

And that’s when Supergirl blinks, and her cheeks pink. “I’m not--”

A rise of pain nearly overwhelms her and she cries out, doubling over as the heat seems to boil her within. “We can figure it out later,” Lena gasps. “Help me, please.”

“This won’t be simple,” Supergirl says quietly. “And this won’t be quick. Daxam men want--” and she looks pained as she says it: “--Daxam men have remarkable endurance.”

The word _endurance_ sounds more beautiful than music and Lena leans in, leans her head back and sighs as pretty as she can, like some kind of wanton thing. But her eyes tightly shut; the sane part of her, horrified. 

“And,” Supergirl continues, “we don’t know if I-- if I can make it go away. If you, if you need a man to--”

Lena’s growing more and more slack against Supergirl’s hold, and she opens her eyes, locks her gaze on Supergirl’s. “I trust you,” she says, and believes it. 

And Supergirl lets go of Lena’s arms, giving in.


	2. what happened next

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Things Lena doesn’t know: Rhea planned for everything.**  
>  Or, a Daxam wedding tradition gone very, very wrong.  
>  _Post s2 finale._
> 
> part two

At first, Lena just breathes through it; the sing-song in her mind making explicitly specific suggestions and the fire between her legs heating up to an impossible burn. She thinks of how and the why and the what, and laughs out loud at the bewildering situation she’s in, _she_ , a Luthor. Trapped in this insatiable need for-- need for--

She bites her lip; _it’s going to feel so good._

“I’ve never--,” Supergirl says. “You’ll have to--”

And Lena impulsively grabs her hand, holds it up to her lips and kisses it gently before pushing Supergirl’s fingers into her mouth. Tasting salt and sucking hard. Lena’s eyes flutter close, pleased.

There’s a hand at her waist, a grip that wakes her up a little. “Lena,” Supergirl says, “What do you want me to do?”

She automatically pictures Supergirl eating her out; vividly, vivid enough to let out a low groan against her fingers. The length of Supergirl’s tongue against her wet heat, focusing all of her relentlessness against Lena’s needy clit again, and again, and again, until she cries out--

 _No, no_ , she thinks. _Surely something simple will do._

It takes a moment to halfway compose herself, pull away and pull her jacket off, unbutton her button down, and undo her pants completely. Heels off. Cool air sliding against her heated skin. 

“Start with this,” Lena says, “start with--” and she takes Supergirl’s hand, the one wet from her mouth, and pushes it gently between her legs. The moment wet skin touches even wetter skin, Lena gasps out and stares up at the ceiling in some kind of shock. 

“I didn’t mean to--” Supergirl starts before Lena clamps down hard on Supergirl’s wrist. 

“No, this is good.”

There’s a little negotiation between their fingers, moving Supergirl’s in such a way that Lena keens, almost doubles over. The sensation is overwhelming, and so, so, so, so right. “That’s it,” she whispers, and it’s not long before she’s seeing stars, not long before the walls of her sex flutter fierce, not long before she-- 

The relief lingers enough for her to gasp out a, “I’m so s-sorry--,” before it all rages back, like an ocean wave. Lena sobs out. 

“You need more,” Supergirl says, all business, and starts all over again -- harder this time, and with a learned dexterity. It's a surprise, deliciously so, as she rips at the lace between Lena’s legs for better access. With her hands free, Lena’s able to reach up, grasp her close, cling to her as she focuses on the sensation. As she hopes for the pain to go away. 

The fire inside of her seems unquenchable; an inferno of desire and _need_ and a complete lack of propriety as she moans out a string of dirty words that bring such color to Supergirl’s already blushing cheeks. 

“If I have too,” Supergirl replies quietly to a request Lena doesn’t remember saying. That’s when Supergirl squares her jaw and adjusts her rhythm and pressure just slightly enough, and Lena’s lost again, lost in a blinding whiteness that seemingly tears her apart as she comes, and comes, and comes. 

Her face is wet with big salty tears, one after another rolling down her cheeks as she tries to breathe evenly again. _It’s unfair, it’s just not fair. It’s--_ “It’s going to have to be more,” she says, worked up rather than relieved. 

They breathe hard together, as one, and Supergirl leans her forehead against Lena’s. “Okay.”

But she surprises her; lifting both hands up and under her shirt, briefly fighting her bra strap before-- before -- and then, Supergirl’s hand slides carefully over Lena’s pebbling nipple. “This is something I like,” she admits softly. “Maybe you will too.” 

Every touch, every caress sends thousands of delicious sensations to the greedy heat between her legs. They haven’t kissed, not since--, and yet Supergirl dips her head to run her nose along Lena’s breast, just before, just before--

It’s a shock of pleasure; Supergirl’s mouth, and tongue, and teeth. Gentle at first, before building to a startling roughness. Lena is pressed so hard against the wall, and her hands claw at it in her agony, in her delight. She’s aching everywhere, every inch of her, and that’s when she comes, a little bemused and a great deal hungrier.

That’s when -- and without warning -- that’s when Supergirl reaches down, sliding her fingers against all the wetness, and fucks in, hard, three fingers strong. 

“O-oh, you--,” Lena gasps out before making a stilted sob. 

Adjustments in position are made so that it’s easier for both; for Supergirl to make purchase, for Lena to hold on in her desperation. And it goes on for some time. The build up in the far reaches of her sex is immense, spooling up an unfamiliar pressure and an almost ecstatic promise. Lena is delirious, almost unhinged; it’s like she’s been ripped apart, slowly, intimately. And all she wants is for Supergirl to fuck in deep, deeper, such hard fingers against soft, throbbing flesh. 

And the thought of a Luthor this vulnerable to a child of Krypton puts a smile to her lips before everything releases in a crashing sort of way; a vast feeling that resonates in every crevice and curve, a satiating bliss closing up an almost carnal hunger. Her mouth is open and she hears herself yell, and then gasp, and then yell again; her grip on Supergirl, so very tight. It’s too much and it’s messy and it’s exhausting and it’s _everything_ \--

\--and breathing is quite difficult for a while. 

Supergirl lingers inside of her, fucking in casually now. And it's nice, it's so nice, to come down like this. The touch of her skin, and the sweat rolling down her temple, and the red of her cheeks. 

And that’s when Lena opens her mouth: “I don’t think it’s done. I’m not--” she says. 

A sigh, a look of worry, a fist against her chest. Supergirl says: “I have a theory.” The burn inside of her glows a little. “Lena, I think it has to be mutual. I think it’s not just you that has to--”

Lena is dizzy with the idea. “I need to get you off.”

“Probably.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

Supergirl’s expression is unreadable. “We can figure it out later.”

And slowly, carefully, like a predator fearful of scaring its prey, Supergirl moves away to peel off the suit, tights, and boots. Stands in thin underwear and a sports bra and nothing else. And when she, all but naked, fidgets her hands a little, Lena is reminded, vaguely, of someone else but doesn’t have the time or the care to think it through. 

She reaches out and takes Supergirl’s hands. Lena is fucked out, blissed out, exhausted and used, but her eyes are wide open and her heart is a drum. 

The next few moments will mean something. Will have true reverberations in their relationship. Before, _before_ , could be thought of as an incredibly intimate, incredibly embarrassing cure to an alien disease. Now, now is different. Supergirl isn’t dosed up, isn’t needy with desire. Supergirl isn’t here because she wants to be. Supergirl is doing her duty. Supergirl is an alien and a superhero and Kara’s _friend_ and--

 _How am I going to do this_ , she thinks. 

Supergirl pulls away and walks, almost stilted, to the couch. Where she lays down and opens her legs slightly. “Lena,” she says and her eyes are so dark. “I trust you.”

It’s a lot to take in. Lena drinks in the sight; the expanse of skin, the curve of her hip, the slight tremor in her limbs. She’s never-- she’s never thought of Supergirl like this, splayed out and willing and all hers. She’s never hungered for--

 _And now_ , she thinks with horror, _this will be everything I want._

She starts slow, she starts gentle; fingertips sliding along Supergirl’s skin, a little hello, before getting hands on her thighs, opening them wider. She smiles when Supergirl sighs out something, and it sounds like pleasure. Braver, Lena pushes in, slides her nose along the cloth between her and--

Lena’s taken a little aback, from what she expected and what’s real. She slides her hand carefully up a trembling thigh, and gently touches Supergirl’s sex. And it’s wet, it’s so wet. She curses in her surprise and Supergirl nervously laughs. 

“I’m sorry,” they both say at the same time. 

There’s relief, and then there is hunger. 

She’s all daring now, Lena Luthor, as she presses in with force and slides cloth aside to get at that wetness, and the hardening clit she finds there. Careful at first to listen to Supergirl’s gasps, to learn what works, Lena soon turns merciless. Her tongue is a constant pulse and pressure, no matter how much Supergirl writhes. 

It’s something almost transcendent to completely take apart Supergirl like this, be the reason she’s a mewling mess on her couch, tearing at her own bra to get at her budding nipples and tangling her fingers almost too forcefully in Lena’s hair. 

Lena smiles against skin as she thursts in a few fingers and teases out more gasping cries, a beautiful sound that continues to build to a crescendo. 

And when she _knows_ , when she knows Supergirl is riding out her pleasure, the first thing she feels is the receding fire and flame in her belly, leaving her as fast as it overwhelmed her initially. Gone is the pain and the drive and the _need_ and the--

\--and she awkwardly scrambles, just a little, just enough, so that she’s face to face with Supergirl, so close, and she opens her mouth to say “it’s over” but she can’t, the words are lost in a searing kiss, unexpected.

Lena forgets to breathe.

The kiss, in reality, is short, when it comes to kisses, but Lena feels like it lingers forever. The press of lips, the touch of tongue, and the slight hint of teeth; the taste of her and the smell of sweat and sex. The sound of Supergirl sighing like it hurts. The clench of her sex, an aftershock resonating deep as a real feeling washes over her: very genuine desire.

And it’s shattering, and it’s mad, and it’s untoward, and it’s all Lena can do but pull away from her, breathe in the air, once, twice, and pass out on the floor.

*  
There’s a cool cloth on her forehead and a glass of water on the table beside her when she wakes up in a-- in a-- and it takes her a moment to recognize where she is. 

Kara’s apartment. And Lena’s heart drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what happens next???? where do they go from here??? tune in to find out!


	3. and where it went from there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and the feels were explored; and the feels were _not_ explored.

She sits up, gradually, and cradles her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. Tries to be in the moment, mindful of her breathing and the air on her skin. She’s in someone else’s-- no, she’s in Kara’s clothes; yoga pants and a soft shirt. Bare feet on the floor. Her body is sore, and she feels-- she feels _cold_ , and finds a blanket to wrap herself in. Holds it tight. 

Luthors are not ones for crying under any circumstances, and here she is, wondering if this is the time for a good cry. 

“You’re awake,” is the sound that heralds Kara’s presence, coming out of the bathroom with wet pigtail braids and that fresh sort of appearance one has coming out of a shower. A cardigan and jeans, the picture of normalcy and Lena shudders, feeling unnatural, unusual, wrong, so wrong.

“She brought me here, I suppose, so you could straighten me out?” she asks, her voice weak. 

It’s a sad sort of smile on Kara’s lips. “She was worried about you, but had to, uh,” and she says: “Take care of the dress.”

“Right,” Lena says, considering if Supergirl will ever feel the need to save her in future. “Did she tell you--”

“--I got the gist of it,” Kara interrupts. 

It’s a wall of shame that batters her, and Lena winces. “I know she’s your friend, god, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure--,” Kara starts in a high voice, pauses. And then, much lower: “I’m sure Supergirl understands. She’ll be oka--”

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them: “I’m not okay, how could she be okay?”

Kara’s expression is inscrutable and she does that thing where she fidgets with her hands. And then with several strides she stands over Lena, a warm presence. “She’s a big girl, Lena.” 

It’s awful, truly, and Lena grasps at Kara’s hand, presses it against her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

What Lena doesn’t see: Kara’s flinch, Kara’s eyes closing, Kara’s other hand fisting.

What Lena hears: “I’m just so glad it was-- it was her.”

Memory and horror wash over her. “Jesus, Kara, what if it had been with--”

“Better that it was Supergirl,” Kara says firmly, and moves to sit next to her. 

Lena’a not exactly shaking but she's aware of a tremor in her bones; the thought of being bound in any way to-- to-- to a man she hardly knew, never mind the rest of it. Horrible, horrible. “Better that it was her,” she echoes and then feels the insidious energy of shame. 

That's when she sees Kara hesitate. Just a little, just enough, and then Kara’s arms are around her. An embrace, a mirror of weeks before. 

_What must she think of me_ , Lena considers before leaning into the touch, smelling the sweetness of vanilla soap and suddenly feeling warm all over. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I’m-- I’m--”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Kara finishes. “But you’re safe here, I’ve got you.”

Her eyes close and that’s when the tears come; first, the kind that just gently roll down your cheeks, wetting your skin, and then the full waterworks. The gasping, messy, ugly kind of tears. 

Things Lena doesn’t know: Kara’s already shed hers, in the shower where they could be quickly washed away. 

Kara’s arms are tight around her, so tight that it’s almost uncomfortable; but Lena doesn’t mind. Likes the crushing sensation, warmth and pressure. A fierce sort of kindness.

When she’s done, when she’s finished, she leans her cheek against Kara’s shoulder. “Thank you, I know you’ve got your own-- your own shit to deal with. What with Mon-El, and--”

“I’m--” Kara starts. “Let’s just not talk about him right now. If that’s okay.”

“Of course, whatever you want,” Lena breathes out, and then there’s a pause before she says: “Is she-- is Supergirl, right now I mean, is-- does Supergirl have someone that she can talk to--”

“No,” Kara says and overly sharp. 

Lena curls up further, further shamed. “So, she’s alone right now.” And something inside of her just _breaks_. Her hand finds Kara’s and squeezes it tight. 

“She’ll rally. She always does,” Kara says softly. “She’s Supergirl.”

A silence creeps into the room, settles and lingers. Then--

“She had to save you,” Kara says. 

“She didn’t have to--” Lena starts because now the images are flooding in, memories that can’t be erased. The touch of her hand, the smell of her body, the taste of her lips. “She did more than just save me, and I’m-- I’m--”

“You’re what?” 

“She kissed me, Kara. She didn’t have to do that. She kissed me.”

And Kara disengages, leans back on the couch with her hands on her knees. “Oh.” Her absence is immediate and chilling. Lena pulls the blanket back over her, clings tightly to it. Misery simmers in all of her dark places. 

Things Lena doesn’t know: Kara’s heart is beating fast, oh so fast. 

“She fucked me, she kissed me, and now she’s getting it together alone, and who knows if I’ll ever see her again and, _jesus_ , I just don’t know how I’m going to move on from this, not _wanting_ her,” Lena says all too quickly.

“Wanting _her_?,” Kara asks quietly.

“For real,” Lena says. “God, I’m a terrible person. You must think I'm a terrible person.” 

There’s a long pause before Kara opens her mouth. “You can’t walk away from something like that and not be kinda--” she hesitates. “--goofy in the head about it?”

“I’d go with ‘fucked up’ over ‘goofy’ but sure,” and a smile, small as it is, grows on her lips. “I’m so fucked up now. I mean, she’s--” and Lena’s mouth is open, ready to say: _she’s so beautiful, haven’t you ever noticed?_ before she remembers herself. 

“She’s what?” Kara says and seems a little breathless. 

“Well, you know. She’s Supergirl.” 

Things Lena is thinking about: her grip on Lena’s wrists holding her so still, her body writhing while lost in pleasure, her eyes flashing dark when she said “I trust you.”

Things Kara is thinking about: how entirely fucked up she is. 

Things Lena says: “I’m glad I can talk to you about this.”

Things Kara says: “I’m your friend, Lena. I’ll always be your friend.”

Lena leans back against the sofa, attempts a smile. “Then be a friend and get me drunk.”

Something pinches in Kara’s face before: “I don’t really have-- I do have a bottle of some fancy champagne that Miss Grant gave me once. How’s that?”

In moments, there are jam jars filled with an impressive vintage of Pol Roger. Lena throws it back like it’s water and lets the bubbles and booze simmer a little before pouring another glass. This time she savors the flavor; honeysuckle, hazelnut, and lemon curd. Her eyes close tight. 

“What can I possibly say to her if I ever see her again?”

When she opens her eyes, Kara is cradling her full glass, looking thoughtful. “If I was Supergirl, I guess, I guess I would want--”

“--I mean, after the apologies and the thank yous and the horrible awkwardness of it all--”

“--I would want you to be honest with me.” And something like pain shadows Kara’s face all of a sudden. She looks down and takes a long drink of the champagne. 

Lena shakes her head. “No, no, no, never. Never. It’s too much.” 

“You don’t think Supergirl could handle it?” Kara sips lightly.

“She can handle anything,” Lena says, feeling a little woozy. “I just don’t know if _I_ could--”

“--If you could open your mouth and say the words?” Kara finishes. “I can understand that.”

Things Lena doesn’t know: There’s an ache growing in Kara’s belly, and it radiates out from her middle. Her toes curl and her jaw clenches. And it’s warm, it feels so warm. 

But Lena’s not listening, Lena’s feeling something strange and awkward in the room and Lena knows it's her, knows she's fucked up, she's all fucked up, and Kara is uncomfortable. And of course she is, friends to both Lena _and_ Supergirl. Girlfriend to the man in question. _Who wouldn't want to be a million miles away from me right now_ , she thinks.

“So I guess avoidance is the only answer. I just have to be extra careful not to get in mortal danger for the rest of my life.”

Kara shrugs, tops off Lena’s glass. “Seems reasonable.” 

And it hits her: “God, imagine if my mother found out.”

“Gosh,” Kara says and Lena notices Kara’s full body flinch. 

“I know, right?” she says, and chuckles. “What a nightmare.”

Lena doesn’t notice that Kara doesn’t join her in the laugh.

When they reach the end of the bottle, with Lena having drank most of it, she feels her blood run warm, feels a heaviness in her eyelids. “You wouldn’t--” she starts. “You wouldn’t mind if I called a car and went home? Bed sounds amazing right now.” Lena hesitates before blurting out: “And you probably want me gone, gone, gone.” 

“You’re--” Kara says, fidgets. “If you want to stay, you--”

“No, no, you’ve-- you’re good,” Lena says. Stops herself from saying: _you’re so good. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t deserve you_. Instead, she finds Kara’s hand again, squeezes it hard. “I can manage.”

Kara’s face does that inscrutable thing again, like she’s thinking about something important but unable to express it. And this is what she says: “Of course.”

*  
There’s a chill that sets in as the car drives her away from Kara’s apartment, and Lena thinks again about Supergirl being alone right now. 

The chill continues to grow as she clambers into her bed, pulls the blankets and covers over her skin, shivers until sleep takes her. 

*  
Her phone buzzes and she stirs, bleary eyed. There’s the discomfort of a headache and she’s still so cold. Breathing through the pain, she fumbles for her phone, curious, and looks at the alerts.

And her hand raises to her mouth.

“SUPERGIRL FALLS OUT OF THE SKY,” it reads. 

*  
Things Lena doesn’t know: Rhea planned for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE TO YOU, surprise to me, this gets a fourth chapter and a new tag. Thanks for reading!!
> 
> And big thanks to my A and the lovely petragem for the beta and thinky thoughts on this chapter and my wicked next steps for ch4!!


	4. and how it twisted and turned

**_So, this is how it went:_ **

A lot of effort was put into New Daxam, building gold from ash was not an easy task. But the sons and daughters of Daxam were a hardy people, hardier under the yellow sun. 

And there were plenty of slaves for labor.

The queen made steady appearances, on screen and in person, to rally spirits and remind her people that the gods willed them not just to live, but to thrive in this new world. 

Peace after utter destruction was shaky at times; the indigenous people of the planet had fire in their veins. But that's when the human princess would shine. Her lips red and cheeks so white. “Do not despair,” she would say with a baby in her arms, a child holding onto her skirts. “We are united, we are one Daxam.” 

The resistance remembered her as a Luthor and so her complicity was a given. 

And her beloved prince would appear next to her, so handsome and so fair, and his smile, so genuine. “We are making this world great again.” 

Then, they would kiss - a sweet sort of affair with only the hint of passion - and hold hands; a vision of glamor and true love. New Daxam’s future leaders. Inseparable. 

Now if, _if_ you peeled back the veil and you watched and you listened, what would you discover?

Two bodies, alien, human; _one soul_. 

**_No, no. No, that's not at all how it went. It went more like--_ **

Lena reads: “SUPERGIRL FALLS OUT OF THE SKY.”

Before she realizes what’s she done, she’s listening to Kara’s voicemail greeting. The phone beeps and Lena says something incoherent, something like: “Call me. Supergirl. Oh god.” 

Wrapped in blankets and still shivering, she watches the news -- which tells her nothing helpful. A SWAT team collected Supergirl, who was reportedly still moving and breathing in the crater her body left in pavement. _Not dead, not dead,_ not _dead_ , she thinks.

She calls Kara again and this time it goes straight to voicemail. _Jesus_ , she thinks. _There has to be other people I can call. People who know Supergirl, know Kara_. She considers Winn, but she doesn’t have his number -- he’s always contacted her. Her mind races. She knows Kara has a sister, but that’s about it. _Clark Kent maybe? No, no. That’s ridiculous, what would he know_. She thinks, _Cat Grant wouldn’t know, and she’s probably working overtime now with this story_. 

_Besides_ , she thinks, _a Luthor asking after a Super would be news in itself._

All she can do is wait. 

And it goes like this: the hot water beats down on her and she still shivers in her shower. She waves it off as fear, as a deep seated, thoroughly debilitating fear. Not important, not now. 

And it goes like this: she takes Advil for her headache, pours a stiff drink, curls up in her bed and watches her phone not ring. Watches alerts pour in about Supergirl, but none of it new news. 

And it goes like this: she fantasizes what she will say, what words will come out of her mouth when Kara calls her; fantasizes further, thinking of Supergirl at her window, taping on the glass and looking brave and alive and _beautiful_ and--

And it goes like this: her phone rings, a blessed sound, and she picks up saying “Kara--” and the voice of her doorman responds: “Uh, ma’am. A Winn Schott is here for you. Ma’am.”

After quickly giving permission, she scrambles to the front door of her condo, not even caring how presentable she is. Has the door open before the guest elevator doors slide apart. 

“Winn,” she breathes out, “Is there anything, _anything_ I can do--”

“Hi--” he interrupts, and he truly looks distressed. “Hi, there. Hi. Um. Yeah. I-- Can I come in?”

She leads him quickly to the sofa, her mouth full of questions, her thoughts of Supergirl. 

He eyes her piles of blankets. “Are you cold?” 

“Yes.”

“Headache?”

“Yes?”

“So,” he says, sitting down. “Awkward request. It’s come to my attention, um, that you, uh. Well. You were intimate with her recently. And shared fluids.”

Lena opens her mouth, closes it. Nods. Shivers.

He holds out a strange looking device. “I need to sample your blood.”

“I--” she starts but then holds out her hand. He quickly closes the device over her index finger. A simple prick and her hand is free. 

He looks steadily at the readings, and she begins to fidget. She says: “This has something to do with me, with the dress, with _Rhea_.”

The device begins to beep loudly and he shuts it off. “Yes, yes, and yes. I’m going to have to take you, um, back to my--”

“Are you taking me to her?” she says, getting to her feet and immediately swaying. He leaps up to steady her, and she leans a little heavy against him. “I don’t feel--”

“You’re not well,” he says. “Neither is she. We need to run tests.”

“I’m all yours.”

*  
There’s a medical gurney waiting for her at the front, and she looks at Winn before clambering into it, letting a few techs strap her in. Hot water bottles and blankets come next; a small comfort. She still shivers with cold, now knowing it’s something, _something_ else. 

Winn’s in the front of the ambulance so she can’t ask questions, she can just lay there, thinking of all the possible worst case scenarios. She’s debilitated Supergirl in some way, some horrible “fall out of the sky” sort of way. It’s her, she did it. It’s her fault. _No, no_ , she thinks. _Not my fault_. And then she considers all the reasons why Rhea would want this, and would want this for Lena, for Mon-El. To hurt, to weaken? To distract? Was this, whatever it is, fatal? Were they always meant to die after providing a wedding and a hybrid heir for Rhea to mold in her image? 

By the time they arrive, she feels halfway hysterical. “Can I see her?” she begs Winn, begs the woman in black who joins them. “I need to tell her--” she starts before coughing. 

“It’s bad,” the woman says. “Get her to her room. Fast.”

And it goes like this: she’s wheeled into the building, into an elevator, onto a high floor, and into an empty medical room and all the while, something like warmth begins to grow inside of her. Like a flower blooming in her chest and spreading out tendrils of warmth as it goes. 

And it goes like this: she tells them immediately what she’s feeling and gauges their reactions -- relief, confusion, curiosity. The woman in black disappears from the group, and Lena can hear her running away, the fast beat of feet against tile. 

(And it goes like this: Kara sobs out Lena’s name, and holds onto her sister’s hand so tight.)

*  
In the hours that pass, Lena continues to ask the techs about Supergirl, and ask for her phone. “You know we can’t do that yet,” one of them says, but not unkindly. Gives her magazines instead. And with each passing moment, she feels better, feels slow surges of warmth and feels her headache drift away into nothing. She wants to lean into it, wants more of the comfort, but it’s apparently a slow process. 

And she thinks again about Supergirl, wanting her to knock on the door, come in with a smile and an explanation. Sit next to her and, and, _and_ forgive her. 

But it’s Winn who arrives, fiddling with a tablet and looking pretty pink around the cheeks. “Hi again,” he says, and stands at the foot of her bed. 

He opens his mouth: “So, um, thanks to our Daxam friends, you have a little alien STD. And by little, I mean, it’s not little, it’s kinda permanent.”

Lena blinks.

And he continues talking. Something about an alien virus in her bloodstream, Kryptonian DNA’s similarities and differences with Daxamites, and that a cure is unlikely but they’re willing to try. 

“Because here’s the thing, both of you can gain a tolerance for separation but you will have to-- have to--”

“We can’t be separated?” she interrupts. “Is that why she fell?”

“You’ll gain a tolerance for it,” he repeats. “The cold, the headaches. Over time, maybe a month.” He colors. “It’s just that you _also_ have to. Um. Continue to--” He stops and: “God, why did I agree to be the one to tell you,” he mutters.

She attempts to finish his sentence. “We have to be intimate again.” 

He looks relieved and even more pink. “Every 28 days, give or take a day.”

“Oh,” she says. And images flash through her mind immediately; an expanse of skin, a position she’s never explored, the sound of gasping breaths. And then everything spirals into such a crippling shame. She finds it hard to open her mouth and breathe.

“We can work on a cure,” he says quickly. “We can, I just don’t know--”

“When can I talk to her?” Lena says steadily, her voice low. 

He pauses, looks at her and she can tell how worried he is. “She took it harder than you. She’s still in recovery. Soon.”

Her mouth opens and it comes out too fast: “I need to be with her, I can make her better just being closer--” 

“We thought about that,” he says, looking contrite. “But we--”

“She’s important to you. I get that. And I’m a Luthor,” she says and in that moment, really feels the weight of the situation, of a Super and a Luthor, bound irrevocably. “But she’s important to me too.” 

“I know,” a voice says at the door. 

And both of them look up and both of them flinch. 

It’s Kara Danvers.

 

 

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure what this says about me or this chapter, but i listened to “mmm whatcha say” on repeat while writing it. Also lol forever that I thought this story could be written in three chapters. THANKS FOR HANGING IN THERE, READERS. CH5 IS SCHEDULED FOR TOMORROW TITLED “AND THEN THERE WERE REVEALS AND FEELS.” :DDD


	5. and then there were reveals and feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reveals, feels, and a little interlude

All Lena wants, all she really wants is for Supergirl to walk right through the door, weak as she is, shattered as she is, and be alive. Be in the reach of Lena’s arm.

What Lena gets: Kara Danvers looking pale and awkward in the space between an open door’s frame. She’s unwanted, to be honest; she’s Lena’s connection to the boy she was meant to be bound to, and Lena’s connection to the girl, to the girl, to the girl--

“Hi,” Kara says and, somehow, Winn basically disappears from the room in the fastest way humanly possible and shuts the door behind him.

“You’re the last person I expected to see here,” Lena tries. “The _last_ person. Did you get my messages? Have you seen her? Is she okay? Kara, oh my god, is she okay? She fell out of the _sky_.”

Kara’s expression is strained. “I’m--,” she starts and then: “How are you feeling?”

“Well--” and Lena thinks about it. In slow degrees, she’s beginning to feel warm, so warm, like slipping into that perfect sort of bath which warms you all over and makes you feel at ease. It’s unsettling, it’s nonsensical, it’s-- “I’m--”

Kara interrupts: “I need to tell you something.”

Lena stares, confused, and watches as Kara limps towards her. _What’s wrong with_ \-- Lena thinks before just being present. Kara seems to think about it, and then moves to sit on the bed, her hip touching Lena’s. There’s a destabilizing surge of heat; not a bad feeling, not a arousing feeling, but something like exhilaration.

“What?” Lena breathlessly asks and her emotions are all scattered, because in an instant she feels very real but very abstract fear.

Kara swallows loudly and bites her lip. “So,” she says and raises her hands to her head.

First: she takes down her hair from a messy bun so that it’s waves and waves of beautiful blonde hair.

Second: she removes her glasses, and places them on the bedside table. She blinks several times.

Third: she unbuttons her shirt -- just a little, just enough.

Lena stares at what she can see, stares at the evidence, and has zero interest in making eye contact as her mind goes completely blank, shuts down, silences completely.

Some kind of quiet pervades the room, as does such comforting waves and waves of warmth with a singe of pleasure. Lena shivers, but not from any kind of cold.

Words seem silly at this point, pointless. Her world is set off-kilter. It’s a punishing sort of realization; obvious, obvious, _obvious_ and yet--

She reaches up slowly, slowly, as if Kara, as if _Supergirl_ will flee, and Lena’s hand pushes gently against her chest.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” she says softly, and there it is - the thud, tha-thud, tha-thud sensation.

Supergirl says: “I can hear yours.”

Lena’s hand moves, moves up, and she curls her fingers in Supergirl’s collar, that strange fabric, and her hold tightens. Willing her not to fly away.

“Hello,” she says, a simple greeting.

And Supergirl nods, but otherwise stays supernaturally still.

“Are you--”

“I've been better.”

Lena clears her throat. “Does this mean someone like Clark Kent is Superman? Wait. Is Clark Kent _Superman_? No, don't tell me,” Lena says. And then a hundred thousand words are in her throat, begging to be released; to be yelled and shouted and screamed and --

“I lied to you,” Supergirl says. “I lied and I lied and I lied to you. I’m sorry.”

Lena finds her courage, and lifts her eyes to gaze right into Supergirl’s. She looks _terrible_. Pale faced and dark circles and a despairing look on her face. Her mouth is slightly open, an attempt to hide breathlessness. And in the periphery of her vision, she can see Supergirl’s hands in fists.

And her heart beats on, a steady sort of thing.

There’s much to consider, and Lena wonders what it is that she, herself wants.

The trouble is this: the closer she is to Supergirl, to her body and alien blood, the more euphoric Lena feels. Like staring at a wide empty beach, like drinking too much champagne, like being lost in a kiss that never ends. And she knows enough now to recognize it as the bond.

The trouble is this: Lena’s been lied to most of her life. She’s used to it. But in this, in this moment, Lena has to care, has to, has to, has to, _has to_ \--

“What if I don’t care,” Lena says, like it’s easy, like everything makes sense. “What if I--”

Supergirl raises a hand. “We have to deal with this first.” And she makes the saddest smile ever. “And you do care. I’ve been your friend. I’ve been unable to--”

“Tell me?” It’s cold, it’s so cold: “But what if I _don’t care_?”

“Your mother knows. She cares,” Supergirl says and it’s shattering news. So much that Lena gasps, struggles to breathe; and yet she doesn’t let go of the suit, doesn't let go of her.

“Fuck my mother,” Lena says, cruel, and considers that she can deal with that bombshell later. “You have a secret identity, fine, and it’s _incidentally_ my best friend, fine,” --and she notices Supergirl flinching -- “What’s important to me right now is that I’ve damned you, I’ve cursed you with an alien _disease_. Something, god knows, you don’t have time for, and oh fuck--” she says as she realizes, “--was meant for me and _him_.” Every image of _Kara_ and Mon-El flashes through her mind and everything just hurts. “How you must have felt, how you must feel about all of this. I’m so sorry.”

Supergirl’s eyes crinkle with a wince. “It wasn’t--”

“Look, I convinced you, you, _you_ that it was just sex, like it was easy, simple, and--”

“Stop it,” Supergirl says, and her hand meets Lena’s. Finger curled around hers, holding tight, so tight. “We didn’t know.” And that’s when Lena sees Supergirl’s tears, soft rounded things that roll down her cheeks, splatting here and there. “We just didn’t know.”

It’s sobering. Lena echoes in a whisper: “We didn’t know.” And it feels like a comfort she doesn’t deserve.

The quiet returns.

Supergirl’s crying further, silent, silently, and the hot salty tears keep coming. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lena,” she finally says and Lena notes how much Supergirl sounds like _Kara_ now. “You were drugged by _my_ enemy. And _I_ deceived you.”

She looks so helpless. “And I thought,” she continues, “I thought it would just be weird but fine if I just took care of you. I mean, I love you, you’re my friend and you needed help and I just thought--”

“I love you too,” Lena blurts out. Unsure how she means it but the words feel so good in her mouth.

Supergirl narrows her eyes, squares her jaw. “I just thought that it would be fine. It was a bad call.”

All Lena can see is Supergirl falling out of the sky, too cold, too much in pain to fly any further - fly away, fly away from _her_. From what they did.

And all Lena wants is to hold her, tangle her fingers in all that hair and tell her it's okay (it's not okay, it really isn’t); any kind of comfort. But, god knows, Supergirl surely doesn't want to be touched.

(All Kara wants now is to be held, to be held, to be held, and never let go.)

It’s hard, truly, but Lena lets her go, leans back in her bed. Feels how heat flows slowly out of her; not uncomfortably, but noticeably. “So, what do we do now?”

Supergirl’s hand is still where Lena’s was, at the spot where her cape meets her suit. She takes a huge breath before: “We have a month’s reservation at The W, adjoining rooms. We can both work remote. We may have to coordinate when there’s a fire or a kitten up a tree,” and she smiles a little. “Your business trips may need to be on hold for a few months, we’re not sure. And I won’t be able to go the Fortress without you for awhile.” And she looks suddenly very resolute. “And we will, in time, get back to normal, normalish.”

And Lena opens her mouth: “But each 28 days, give or take, we--”

The blush on Supergirl’s cheeks is really quite beautiful; a pink and rosy sort of glow. “We have to--”

“Mmm.” Lena says, not sure what to think about it as much as she aches to be close, closer.

“Yeah.”

After a pause: “What’s your real name?” Lena doesn’t say: _what do I call you?_ She ignores the insidious voice inside of her whispering _beloved_.

“Kara,” she says simply. “Kara Zor-El.”

“Well, Kara Zor-El. If it had to be anyone, I'm glad it's you.” She wants to say something about trust but the words don't come. Instead: “You know this will really change things, a lot, and you have a life. A job and --”

“So do you. And that doesn't mean we can't manage this. We’re adults.” Kara breathes in slowly. “We're better than any alien STD.”

Lena chuckles and when a smile alights Kara’s face, she looks so beautiful.

“We can manage.”

It’s abrupt when Kara moves to stand, moves away, and heat immediately leeches from her body. “There's more tests they have to run because I’m-- and I have to--” and she fidgets and visibly shivers.

Lena knows it’s a lie. Knows Kara just wants to get out of the room. Fly away, as such. Despite how much it will hurt, despite how cold each of them will get.

Kara stares at her, her shirt still gaping open and the ‘S’ symbol peaking out. Lena just aches inside; the responsibility of knowing, the way it fundamentally changes everything.

And yet: “We’re in this together. You and me,” she says. And she believes it. “You're not alone.”

A shadow passes over Kara’s face and something darkens in her eyes. And Lena feels it, the surge of absolute relief, the surge of desire.

It happens so quickly that Lena doesn't quite know what's happening -- but suddenly Kara is in her space, a warm presence, and her lips are pressed, for a moment, against Lena's. In that instant, waves and waves of heat radiate inside of her; a delicious, overwhelming feeling. Lena wants to reach out, grab Kara by the shoulders and truly embrace her, but _it’s just_ , she thinks, _it’s just not right. I don’t have the_ right _to do that. Despite_ \--

“I’m sorry,” Kara says, pulling away, looking so terrified. “I don’t know why-- I should go.”

And the vacuum she leaves is cold and unforgiving as space.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

  
**AN INTERLUDE**

This is what it's like to be flying, free and exhilaratingly so, without a destination, without a plan, and you’re cold but, of course you are up in the sky and cloud, and it's a known and safe space, and your mouth opens into a perfect O, and you scream and scream until you’re hoarse. Then, the pain in your throat is suddenly tenfold, and prickling hard and fast all over your body. Then, _and then_ , something like ice flourishes in all of the curves of your skin, a feeling worse than kryptonite, and all you can think of, in that moment, is of _her_ , and suddenly you're falling, falling, falling, until all you can see and feel is pavement--

This is what it's like to look Winn in the eye despite the fact that what he's saying is so personal, intimate, unfortunate, and you’re so vulnerable, and so very alone in this. He’s being as kind as he can, speaking with “um’s” and science and zero commentary, but in the dark reaches of your heart, you wish he’d judge, wishes he’d shame you for this, for a bad call, for not taking Lena in to the DEO for analysis before, _before_. You wish someone would punish you for this, before you realize you’re doing a fine job yourself--

This is what it's like to have your sister look at you so, so very guarded, without any hint of her true feeling, and she opens her mouth and she says: “I don't know what's worse, that she's your friend or that she's a Luthor.” And with the same lips and tongue, she says: “ _You have to tell her_.” and a very real, very profound fear floods your bloodstream and your heart starts racing and breathing becomes difficult and _panic_ in all of its horrible forms just takes over--

This is what it's like to reach for your mother's necklace as a much needed comfort, and find it missing from around your neck, under your suit. And to remember where it is. And in the quagmire of your emotion, there is something that stings like regret--

This is what it’s like to know exactly how Lena tastes; knows the press of lips, the touch of tongue, and the slight hint of teeth. Knows how much it ached when you kissed her, all over until you were almost shaking from it, from very genuine desire--

This is what it's like when Lena tells you that you are _not alone_ \--

 

\-- it's like losing your mind.

 

 

 

 

  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a million thank yous to petragem for her stellar beta and my A for tolerating my angst about this chapter. Xoxox.
> 
> And yes, the interlude is for ALL OF YOU WANTING TO KNOW KARA’S POV. spoilers, she’s real sad. 
> 
> Also this chapter comes to you from staring dreamily at [this tumblr post](http://liminal-zone.tumblr.com/post/161705265722/wlwdanvers-you-dont-have-to-be-afraid-im-right) (seriously go stare at it) and listening to Enya’s Aniron on repeat like it’s 2001 apparently. 
> 
> Onward and upward, to chapter six, entitled “and then they ??? boned ??? again ???.” Fingers crossed that it’s finished this weeeekend!


	6. it only got more complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY 3 - DAY 27

**DAY THREE SINCE THE INCIDENT  
_(APPROXIMATELY TWENTY FIVE DAYS TILL THE NEXT)_**

From under her hotel sheets, Lena stays busy; informing her staff that she’s ill and taking time off, downloading a couple projects from the L Corp server to her laptop, calling various business partners with updates, identifying errors in the latest quarterly report, and ordering a shit ton of room service. 

She doesn’t see Kara, not even once. 

Earlier, there are two texts:

Lena: **breakfast?**  
Kara: **I need time**

And yet, she can _feel_ her next door; a presence in her periphery that Lena can’t possibly shake off. And in those waking hours, Lena better understands the bond as she feels _confused_ and _unhappy_ and _lonely_. 

And while the feelings resonate -- they truly do -- they’re not her own. 

 

  
**DAY FOUR**

It’s all Netflix, all the time. 

 

  
**DAY SIX**

She tries again.

Lena: **breakfast?**  
Kara: **meeting Alex**  
Kara: **sorry**

 

  
**DAY SEVEN**

Winn drops by to run another test and he’s all smiles today. “Good news,” he says. “You’re not pregnant.”

Lena doesn’t realize what she’s done, she just sees Winn’s grimace; her grip on his wrist is so very tight. “Excuse me?”

His eyes are wide. “Sorry, yes. Alien stuff. The intent of the-- the--” and he handwaves. “It’s something we’re monitoring.”

And her astonishment and fury must obviously flood into the next room as she can feel Kara’s abstract confusion, worry. Her hands become fists, thinking about Rhea’s plan. Thinking about the sons and daughters of Daxam she would have carried. 

Winn tilts his head, watching her. And he grins. And it’s a sensation like ice along her back. 

“You’re totally fucking with me.”

“I’m totally fucking with you.” 

Lena’s mouth opens and a very singular, very cruel threat spills out of it. She feels so much better as Winn’s face goes white and he nods nervously. 

“Yes--” he says and she raises her chin. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

  
**DAY EIGHT**

She feels it, the sharp alertness and the rise of excitement, and she puts on her shoes before the brisk rap on the door rings through the room. Lena’s been ready for this, ready for Supergirl needing to save the day. And being forced to not do it alone. 

Lena’s got the door open and is racing for the balcony as Kara in full regalia rushes in, wordless. With her arms wide open, Lena stands to grasp her close, and _Supergirl_ flies them out together into the National City skies.

The concept was this: just business, just a superhero having to hold onto the woman she’s bonded to while flying to the scene of the crime, drop her off a block away, handle the situation, and fly back together. 

The reality is this: It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in _days_ and Kara’s hold is so tight, and Lena’s face is smushed against hers, body pressed against body, and the wind is in her face. Heat and joy and delight mingle in all the corners of her heart; it’s like a shot of adrenaline, it’s euphoria like she’s never experienced. Her eyes close, memorizing the feeling and wondering if she’ll ever feel this high again.

The reality is this: Carefully left a block away from the bank-currently-being-robbed, Lena watches the scuffle and how quickly Supergirl brings crime to a close and criminals to a halt. It’s different now, of course, to think of Supergirl as Kara, sweet Kara, throwing punches and standing fearless against gunfire. But her heart is in her chest as she knows, she knows Supergirl never fails. Pride warms her heart.

The reality is this: When she’s finished, the triumphant Supergirl rushes for her, for _her_ , and Lena’s arms are open, ready to be lifted into the air. The determination on Kara’s face is so sure, so true, and Lena’s heart races the moment their bodies meet. She’s reminded of how much she thinks Supergirl is the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen. 

They land easily on Lena’s balcony and Lena’s feet hit concrete. “Thanks,” Kara says in Lena’s ear, “Sorry, I know that’s really inconvenient for you.”

Lena forces herself to let Kara go as much as it hurts. As much as she doesn’t want to. And she doesn’t say: _any excuse to be that close, any excuse, i’ll take it, i’ll take it._

What Lena does say: “Of course. I’m yours anytime you need me.”

And at those words, her eyes go wide and her brain sort of stutters out. 

(Or is it that Kara’s brain sort of stutters out? Lena’s unsure.)

“Yeah?” Kara says, and it’s just a little breathless. 

“Yeah.” 

Who thinks first of what happened between them, of their previous intimacy and the curiosity of what happens next is unclear but, as Lena begins to lose herself into the drowning waters of a very specific longing, she knows she’s not alone in it. 

It’s so hard to be close to her and not be _close, close enough._

“I’m going to go,” Kara says and flies away faster than Lena can say, “No, please--”

Lena feels her go as far as the bond will let her go; feels something like a ribbon tying their hearts together and the ribbon gets so taut, stretched to its limit. Pain lightly lingers in the curve of her limbs. 

Turning on her heels, Lena marches right to the telephone. “Glenfiddich. The oldest you have.”

 

  
**DAY NINE**

It’s 3 am and Lena can’t sleep. There’s dangers to drinking enough to pass out, and one danger is this: you wake up suddenly in the wee hours of the morning and you can’t fall back asleep and you can’t stop feeling terrible and you can’t stop thinking about the terrible things you’ve done in your life. 

It’s a long laundry list for sure, and Lena stares up at the ceiling wishing she could just stop _feeling_ anything again. 

When this has happened before, when this has happened recently, she always knew she could count on Kara cheering her up. She always knew she could call or text or meet up, or even just remember something Kara’s said. 

Words that once comforted now haunt: _I will always be your friend, and I will always protect you._

Shame spirals within her; a dark and and unforgiving and ravaging kind of thing. Lena can easily connect the dots and assign herself the blame for everything leading to this place, to this night. _If only I hadn’t--, if only I hadn’t--, if only--_

She breathes in, throws clothes on, grabs her phone. 

By the time the car service reaches her office, she’s shivering like it’s winter and her head is pounding. She makes her way up and closes the door behind her, leans against it.

Her office is spotless, and the very picture of normalcy, of her life. 

But Lena remembers everything happened here days ago; remembers every moment, every touch, every sigh. And she’ll go on remembering it. Remembering _her_. And _she_ wasn’t just some alien superhero -- a woman she revered, a woman she genuinely liked-- she was Kara, her friend, her _grieving_ friend. 

She makes her way to the couch, sits on it. Puts her head in her hands. 

And then: warmth creeps into her bones, the sort of feeling you have sitting next to a fire, and Lena knows what happens next. Fears it too. 

There’s a whoosh of air and a ripple of energy in the room as Kara lands on her balcony. Her hands are little fists pushed against her hips but her face is blank. 

“I was awake, I could have came with you. I could have brought you here,” Kara says quietly. 

There’s nothing Lena can say, despite so many words lying under her tongue, begging to be voiced. 

“And here?” Kara asks, her eyes locked on Lena’s, as if afraid to look around. “Why?”

“I needed to feel worse,” Lena honestly says. “I needed to feel punished.”

Kara doesn't say anything. Just walks over, her boots shining in the light, and sits next to her. Puts her head against Lena's shoulder. The heat that blossoms at the touch is overwhelming. Like an infusion of sympathy and compassion tinged with something Lena can't put her finger on. 

“And I’ve been avoiding you,” Kara says, another honest statement.

It's regret, that's what's Lena’s feeling -- and it's not her own. 

“Then stop.” Lena breathes out. “I need you.” And it’s almost too much. “You may be Supergirl, Kara Zor-El, but Kara Danvers is my _friend_ , and I need her right now.”

They sit there for a long time before:

“I was scared. I am scared.”

“I know.”

Lena finds and squeezes Kara’s hand. At the touch, a sweet sort of warmth grows inside of her, a comforting sensation; somewhat intoxicating.

And Kara’s eyes close. It’s a dangerous impulse, but she gives in as she begins to rub her thumb against Kara’s hand in small circles. 

They sit like that for a while, and a delicious heat radiates between them. 

Then: “It's early yet, but breakfast?”

And from that moment, everything changes. 

 

  
**DAY ELEVEN**

Room service brings the breakfast trays in at 7:30 and while sitting in their pajamas, they discuss Lena’s latest project; the whys and the hows and the wherefores. And after a rousing debate about which metal alloy to use, Lena says:

“You know, before, when I talked about this stuff, you were, I don’t know, you acted confused? You’re actually some kind of science nerd.”

“I dabble,” and Kara primly eats more scrambled eggs.

“And your _persona_ couldn’t?”

Chewing, Kara looks a little abashed. “I don’t know. I don’t want to come across as--”

“Super?” Lena says with sly sort of smile.

There’s a blossoming of embarrassment mixed with pride and Lena counters it with her own feelings of contentment, and a lazy pleasure. 

Kara smiles back, relaxes just a little. 

And it hits her: “Sometimes you look like her, and sometimes you look like yourself. It’s strange,” Lena says. 

“But I’m--”

Lena raises a hand. “I’m sure that whoever the Batman is, when he takes off his cowl, he is _completely_ different.”

“But he’s still the same _person_.”

And she shrugs. “It’s the way you carry yourself, your voice too. You’re different.” And what she doesn’t say is that Lena can see how one bleeds into the other, how Kara seems more and more authentic around Lena now. It’s nice, it’s better. 

But then Kara grins and it’s rather devious. “You know, you have a crush on Supergirl.”

Lena almost drops her cup. There’s something that sputters out of her, something like a few “well’s” and an “um” and a “you.” The words “I told you that in _confidence_ ” rise up in her mouth but she can’t voice it, it’s so absurd now. 

She lands on: “Is that going to be a problem?” and she really finds her courage and stares evenly into Kara’s eyes.

Kara doesn’t say anything for a long time. And then: “No. It’s not.”

 

  
**DAY TWELVE**

“Can we talk about him?” Lena tries.

“No. No, we can’t.”

 

  
**DAY FOURTEEN**

Her phone rings and it reads “unknown number.” She doesn’t pick up, but there’s something that keeps her from throwing her phone back on the bed, ignoring it. In a moment, a voice mail notification pings. 

“It’s me,” her mother says in the recording. “Your assistant says you’re ill. Just wanted to let you know--” and Lena deletes the message.

From across the room, Kara looks up from her laptop and Lena can feel her trepidation, her fear. “She said you’d hate me.”

And immediately, without hesitation, Lena says: “My mother doesn’t know me at all.”

 

  
**DAY FIFTEEN**

Running with Kara, now that the secret is out, is unfair, utterly unfair. Everything about it is unfair. Three miles in, Lena complains and Kara grins and Lena swears that she hates her forever and Kara says _you love me, you_ love _me_ and Lena stops running to huff and puff. 

Kara disappears in the distance before running back with bottles of water. “My friend Barry runs faster than me, so I get it.”

Lena glares but takes the water. 

“Wait, if you meet him, and you might have to, don’t tell him I said that. Never tell him I said that.”

 

  
**DAY SEVENTEEN**

They sit side by side on the hotel couch, each with laptops on their laps. Kara's writing a long form article about something serious and Lena is working steadily on her project. Their thighs are touching and the rising feeling of heat and contentment fills the room. 

Dreamily, and without a lot of thought behind it, she opens her mouth: “What if we move in together, after -- after--?” Lena says. “It would be easier and I have the space.”

“Maybe,” Kara offers vaguely, “if it makes sense,” and continues typing.

Lena makes a humming noise and types away herself, even if it’s complete gibberish for a while. 

 

  
**DAY EIGHTEEN**

“Wait, Clark Kent is your cousin and Superman’s _your_ cousin,” Lena says. “Wait.”

And Kara waves wildly at the waiter. “We need another mimosa please, thank you!”

 

  
**DAY NINETEEN**

She dreams about her brother, wakes up in the dark and a scream erupts out of her, against her will. With the release of energy, there’s a relief in reality. But there are three sharp raps on the door immediately following.

Carefully, she makes her way to the door, opens it. Makes a shy kind of smile. “A nightmare,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Kara pushes her way in, surveys the room, and lies down on the bed. “I’m great for nightmares.”

Now: it’s a California king-sized bed, and Kara’s lying on the edge furthest from the Lena-sized wrinkled sheets. But it’s still--it’s still--

Lena breathes in, and clambers back under the covers. Feels, oh, so warm. 

“Something about Lex?”

“Mmm.”

“He’s just a man.”

“He’s a Luthor.”

“So are you.”

Lena turns her head and looks into Kara’s eyes. “What if he hurts you?”

Kara doesn’t even blink. “I’d like to see him try.”

There’s something impressive about the sheer might of Kara’s will, and Lena rolls onto her back, stares at the ceiling. Remembers how she always thought _Kara_ was safe from her family. “You’re important to me.” 

“And he’s still your brother.”

Silence fills the room, as does a generous and comforting warmth. And Lena accepts it, falls into it, allows herself to be surrounded by it. And finally: 

“Will you stay?”

“Of course.”

 

  
**DAY TWENTY**

“And you will note in your board packets that the profit margin is growing for our overseas business--” and mid sentence, Lena looks up from her notes and sees Kara watching her from the back of the board room. Pretending to be an assistant. Smiling as if amused. And it’s, it’s something like pride emanating from her. Lena clears her throat, silences the growing surge of embarrassment, of pleasure, and continues the report to her board of directors. 

 

  
**DAY TWENTY ONE**

Lena tricks Kara into a kale smoothie and at Kara’s full body wince, she laughs and laughs and laughs, and-- (Kara’s hit with the waves and waves of Lena’s happiness and something shifts in Kara’s heart.)

 

  
**DAY TWENTY FOUR**

At the edge of downtown Metropolis, Lena sits in a near empty cafe, shivering a little and watching the news. There’s a giant armored creature ravaging the city, and facing off with both Superman and Supergirl. It’s hard to follow the action with the monster hurling concrete at every news reporter helicopter he can see and there’s nothing but chaos on twitter.

Before: “He never asks for my help,” Kara had said, reaching for her. “Rao save us.” And Lena had cradled her face: “You’re strong, and you’re stronger together. You can do this.” And then she had wrapped her arms around Kara and they were off into the sky.

“Ma’am,” the barista says, gesturing to the other clientele leaving the cafe, “It really may not be safe for you here anymore. Would you like to--”

“I’m good,” she says, sipping her coffee and staring at her phone and starting to feel _warmer_.

That’s when all the rafters of the building construction outside fall down and the asphalt buckles because the monster has smashed into the street. Lena doesn’t quite scream but she wildly looks around before she sees that Superman’s on him, punching, and Supergirl’s wielding what must be a broken gargoyle. She swings and hits the thing in the eye, blinding him and pissing him off further. 

Lena knows better but she watches from the smashed window, mesmerized. It sees her and she regrets everything. The monster gets a lump of asphalt in his hand and he throws it her direction, yelling some alien words and, while she successfully dodges, she knows she’s in trouble now. 

That’s when Supergirl flies between them, her fists in the air. Lena hears her say: “Back off or be destroyed.” And when the monster throws back his head in a howling laugh, Supergirl hits his bare neckline with the full power of her heat vision. “Now!” she cries, and Superman throws her a sharp piece of shrapnel. She grasps it in her hands and rams it in through that weakened line of flesh, into the monster’s brain, killing him instantly. 

The monster, dead, teeters this way and that and then falls directly towards the cafe. “Kal, help me,” Lena hears Kara say, before she’s suddenly in her arms, being carried up and away from the building. 

Breathing is hard for a minute, but when they land on a rooftop, Lena has even less chance to catch her breath because Kara is kissing her. Again. And this time, the heat is immediate and the kiss is so filthy wet that Lena’s toes curl in her shoes. It’s several moments before Lena can pull away, gasping, to stare into Kara’s crazed eyes. 

“I don’t know why I did that,” Kara blurts out and all Lena can feel is her confusion mixed with intense desire. 

“It’s the proximity to when we have to, you know, so it’s okay. I’m okay,” Lena says, happy to supply a reasonable excuse and Kara weakly nods, her cheeks so pink.

“Now I have to explain this to Kal,” she says, looking briefly to her right where Superman is hovering a very respectful distance away. 

“Remind him I'm not Lex.”

“Oh, fff---” 

 

  
**DAY TWENTY FIVE**

“Are you nervous? About giving the speech?” Kara asks, sitting inside the limousine with her hands on her knees.

Lena drinks her champagne carefully, worried about spilling it on her gown. “Luthors eat charity galas for breakfast.”

“I’d be nervous.”

“You just killed a hellbeast. Yesterday.” And Lena would be lying if she wasn’t still reliving it; the mayhem and excitement and the kiss, oh god, the kiss. 

“Point made,” and Kara sits back. “And major plus, you have pretty amazing arm candy tonight.”

Lena jumps, almost spits out her drink. “You’re here as my friend,” she says all too quickly.

And Kara looks even more relaxed. “Mm hmm,” she says vaguely. 

“And because we’d painfully freeze to death otherwise, I guess.” 

“Mm hmm.”

Lena looks out the window, not wanting to make eye contact because her heart is a drum in her chest, beating like crazy. To marry Kara’s flirtatious nonchalance with the way she looks so elegant in a rented gown and a pair of Lena’s heels -- it’s enough to inspire all kinds of thoughts --

\-- All she wants, literally all she wants is to drop the glass on the floor, champagne splattering everywhere, and pull Kara into her arms. Rip open her dress at the seams and get her hands on skin and tell the driver to just keep driving and --

\-- and Lena remembers herself. Clears her throat. “Well, I’m glad you’re here regardless.”

Kara laughs, looks away and her cheeks are so very pink.

Hours and a magnificent speech later, Lena’s tired of dancing with all the eligible bachelors of National City and the key donors and the leading attending electeds. It’s late in the evening, and Kara, who has been busy identifying multiple future stories in the who’s-who type of crowd, looks bored. 

It’s easy, it’s so easy to just swan up to her, offer her hand and give Kara her most winning smile. Kara takes her hand and rises to her feet as if drawn to her, like gravity. Lena ignores the skipped beat in her heart and pulls Kara close, a hand at Kara’s back and a hand clinging tightly to Kara’s hand. The touch of her skin is like a burst of heat and pleasure, and the heady feeling makes Lena almost lose her bearings.

“Three days,” Kara breathes out. 

“Three,” Lena echoes. 

“Give or take.”

And that’s when Lena can feel that Kara, _Kara_ , the last daughter of Krypton, is trembling in her arms. 

Lena’s mouth opens slightly, and she leans in just a little, just a little bit. Her eyes are staring at Kara’s lips, and hunger is all she feels now. A starving sort of sensation. 

And Kara pushes forward, close enough now to kiss, and they breathe the same air, swaying to the music.

Near them, the songbird on the stage opens her mouth and out comes “La vie en rose”, beautifully and delicately as if lovers depended on it, and Kara’s eyes close shut. Lena knows this is permission, feels the surge of Kara’s consent freely given, and she’s struck, in this intimacy, of how beautiful Kara truly is. 

And she pulls away, yet holding dear and close to Kara’s hand. _Beloved_ , her heart says. But her mouth speaks: “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.”

In moments, Lena has to find a wall to lean against and two fingers of whisky in a crystal glass. 

And hours and a quiet car ride home later, Lena’s kept awake because Kara is-- Kara is-- _it’s pretty clear_ what Kara is doing alone in her hotel room. Lena’s bed mirrors hers, of course, and essentially head to head, Lena can feel Kara’s pleasure radiate in the air and through the walls. A sweet and rolling sort of satisfaction that goes on and on. Lena senses, but does not truly hear, the hitch in Kara’s breath and the sound of fingers against flesh. It’s enough to drive a woman-- to drive a woman--

Lena gets her hand down between her legs and finds herself wet and ready, and it doesn’t take long to find herself in a lingering moment of bliss, a moment of satisfaction. 

And it’s a strange way to find yourself sliding closer and closer to oblivion, to the sweetest sort of sleep, as you gently push yourself into further pleasure as it continues to echo in the other room. “Tomorrow,” she breathes out. “Tomorrow.”

 

  
**DAY TWENTY SIX**

Warring elements of white Martians bring a different morning than Lena expected.

She spends the day, shivering, at the DEO. A few techs run tests on her as general smashing and violence occurs in the city outside. One of them notes the day, the timeline, and then looks very studiously at her chart. And the other happily reports that the separation situation is improving. 

Lena smiles blithely but her hands are in tight fists. 

 

  
**DAY TWENTY SEVEN**

Kara’s still dealing with the Martian issue, and Lena’s skin is on fire. It’s no where near how bad it got as a result of the dress, but truly, truly, Lena’s feeling feverish and there’s only one cure for it. 

Winn arrives, looking harried and sleep deprived, and he waves the techs away. “I think what would be best for both of you,” and he looks at her very carefully, “is if you returned to the hotel and you both started to feel worse. She’s starting to--” And when Lena tilts her head, he continues: “We can handle the situation without her for a few hours at the very least. We need her head in the game.”

“A few hours?” and Lena doesn’t quite laugh. “I could kiss you.”

And he coughs. “No, please don’t. I don’t know if I’ll catch it.” And then he smiles.

It’s not immediate. She doesn’t just waltz back to the hotel and find a waiting Kara; there is a cruel passage of time. The hotel room is empty and the walls seem to close in on her, and her skin is cold, so cold. She runs a bath, extra hot, and slips into it. _This is insane, this entire thing is insane_ , she thinks, and she wishes the tub was big enough so she could slip under it, be fully submerged in water. Breathing through the anxiety, Lena tries to steady herself. It’s a foregone conclusion, what happens next, but the how and the _how much_ are considerations. And what does the next day feel like, and the day after that? 

There’s a sharp rap on the balcony door, and her heart is in her mouth. Carefully, she gets out of the bath, wraps herself in a robe and walks out of the bathroom to see-- to see--

Standing in her balcony is a pale-faced Kara in her red and blue. Kara lifts her hand in a half wave and truly, she looks a wreck. 

And the sheer proximity is like a chemical high, the presence of a certain serenity. With one long step, Lena gets close. Slides the door open. Summons all the courage she can muster. And she kisses Kara like it’s the first time.

 

 

 

 

  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How can i live without petragem and my A. HOW? I don’t know. No one will ever know. Also my beloved gf really helped refocus this chapter A LOT. All my love to sideofzen. Xoxox
> 
> A SUPERSIZED CHAPTER!!! I hope you enjoyed reading. 
> 
> A lot of time was spent while writing this chapter…
> 
> 1) Tearing out my hair, rending garments, wailing softly
> 
> 2) Listening to “Main Titles” from Superman Returns (a preferred rendition) and Remy Zero’s “Save Me.” Yes, I watched and own all of the Smallville seasons on DVD. (I do not own Superman Returns). And yes, “Save Me” is an amazing drunk karaoke song.
> 
> And yes, now it’s time to conclude this with WHAT HAPPENED NEXT!!!??? (you can easily guess). I can confirm that that the last scene of the whole thing has been written. AND I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT IT.


	7. a million reasons to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and so it comes to a close

**ABOUT THIRTY DAYS BEFORE**

It’s an intimacy like Kara’s never truly experienced; like a hazy sort of dream that’s crept up on her. With a memorable sweetness, he takes her face in his hands and kisses her slowly. Her eyelids are heavy, so she closes her eyes and forgets to breathe. His mouth on her mouth, his body flush against her body. She shivers, deepens the kiss further. _This is love_ , she thinks. _This is what love is_. It’s such a beautiful feeling, this irrevocable truth, and she feels safe encased within it.

And yet: she pulls away: “You know we have to go--”

And Mon El replies: “They can live without us for just another minute.”

 

  
**TWENTY SEVEN DAYS BEFORE**

Lena’s in trouble, _Lena’s in trouble ultimately because of Kara’s actions_ and Kara knows exactly what needs to happen to save her. And it’s terrifying, and it’s so utterly terrifying.

She’s growing more and more slack against Kara’s hold, and her glazed eyes focus in on Kara. As if she’s fighting for her life, fighting to be rational for just a brief moment. “I trust you,” Lena says and Kara knows she’s telling the truth.

 _I’m so sorry_ , she thinks as she lets go, lets go, lets go.

And yet: a very traitorous thrill radiates in her blood, her sinews, her bones. And, within moments, she feels so very, so very alive.

 

  
**SEVEN DAYS BEFORE**

“Is this the--,” and Alex wildly makes a vague hand gesture, “-- _situation_ , or a rebound, or what? I don’t get it.”

“I don’t really understand it either,” she says, afraid to look her in the eyes and reveal something.

(Reveal that she’s happy, and that she’s intrigued to see where this leads, and that she’s not afraid of closeness, and that she hasn’t thought of Mon El in days. Reveal that she’s healing.)

“If I lost Maggie, it would be--”

“Maybe I didn’t love him enough,” Kara snaps. “Maybe I was a child with a first love. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Maybe you’re making excuses because it’s the only way you can manage being forced to--” And Alex can’t finish the sentence. “Maybe falling for her is a defense mechanism. It’s not sustainable.” Alex leans in. “And I still don’t trust her.”

There’s a lot of words that want to roar out of her mouth, but instead: “Then, trust me.”

“Even if you’ll get to a point where you can’t trust yourself? Every 28 days? Give or take?”

“Even then,” Kara says too quickly to be honest.

“You’re walking into fire, Kara.”

And Kara leans back in her chair. “Then it’s a good thing I’m made of steel.”

 

  
**TWO DAYS BEFORE**

Near them, the songbird on the stage opens her mouth and out comes “La vie en rose”, beautifully and delicately as if lovers depended on it.

Lena’s mouth opens slightly, and she leans in just a little, just a little bit. Kara watches as Lena’s eyes look down to stare at her lips. There’s something hungry in her expression and Kara feels it all the way down to her toes; the pull of desire.

And so, Kara pushes forward, close enough now to kiss, and they breathe the same air, swaying to the music. And she thinks, _this, this is real_. Her eyes close, and hope surges inside her.

Then Lena pulls away. A whisper: “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.” And she lets go, disappearing into the sea of gowns and tuxes and glasses of champagne. An ache rises in her chest and there’s a near strangled sigh in her throat as her skin cools.

She thinks: _how strange to want something I will be forced to have._

She thinks: _and how strange to want it_ now.

Kara keeps a close distance after, not willing to be far apart but understanding the need for an expanse between them. _Something safe_ , she thinks.

And her heart _doesn’t want safe_ , her heart wants--

In her room, she slides easily under freshly changed sheets and her hand slides down between her legs to make purchase. A slick and easy exchange is followed quickly by waves of pleasure, and they intensify with every bit of knowledge that Lena will feel it. She waits a moment before going again, harder and faster this time and with the intent to inspire and ---

_There._

And she feels Lena’s pleasure ripple through the wall and resonate in the beating of her heart.

Kara smiles like it’s Christmas and does not stop till she falls asleep.

 

  
**AN HOUR BEFORE**

Kara sails limp across the air, smashing into a dumpster. Dazed, she opens her mouth to breathe in and oxygen floods her lungs and eases the race of her heart.

“And here she is, the great and mighty warrior of Earth,” her opponent, and a really tiresome white martian, says. “A sick little gi--”

She hits him with heat vision while gingerly getting back on her feet. “Is that all you’ve got?” she yells, hoarse, and is glad the martian has been flung onto his back so no one sees her stumble.

“I saw that,” Winn says through the comms.

And with her jaw set, she looks to the skies. “I’m fine.”

“Your readings are through the roof, it took you ten minutes to take care of that guy, and you look awful,” he replies primly.

She shivers, feverish. “Not the kind of thing you say to a girl, Winn.”

“No one wants you at half power.” And more quietly: “You know what you have to do, and sooner rather than later.”

Closing her eyes, she shivers again, and not from the cold. There’s something auspicious in anticipation, in wanting because something in your body is _making you_ want. An echo of truth reinforced by an alien poison outside of your control. A feeling that is on its own timetable, not your own.

“She’s safe at the hotel, you should go,” he says.

“How much time can you give us?” Kara asks, finding a wall to lean against.

Winn replies: “Two hours tops. Plenty of time to--”

“We’ll talk in two hours,” and she turns off her comm.

 

  
**FIVE MINUTES BEFORE**

On the roof of The W, Kara sits in a corner and lets the heat of Lena’s proximity warm up the cold in her veins, her bones. While she knows she must look a fright, she doesn’t want to arrive all shakes and shivers; there has to be some shred of dignity in this.

And she thinks in a furious repetition: _she is what I want, what I’m feeling is real, she is what I want, what I’m feeling is real, she is--_

All the while, and with a merciless pressure, Kara’s desire builds and builds; a fabricated sensation mingled with something real, something true.

And there’s not much time to really seriously, rationally ponder it all as Kara could crawl out of her skin, fall apart, forget how to fly-- the closeness is so much, so near to the deadline, and all she wants is Lena’s hands on her.

There’s a prayer on her lips and she lifts her fist into the air before launch--

 

  
**A MOMENT BEFORE**

She lands with a whoosh of air on Lena’s balcony door and knocks sharply on the glass; once, twice. There’s no one to be seen behind glass and Kara’s heart is in her mouth.

But then: a surge of warmth, a flood of feeling, and she sees her, a simple silhouette of dark hair and white robes and pale skin.

Kara lifts her hand in a half wave, pathetic in retrospect but she holds the gesture long enough.

And that’s when Lena gets close, slides the door open, looks so deadly serious that Kara begins to worry about issues unknown, and then Lena takes her face in her hands and kisses her. Like it’s the first time.

 

 

 

*  
*  
*  
**NOW**

Lena remembers each kiss they’ve shared, and she remembers Kara instigating each one after Lena’s hopeless, hapless first. A kiss in the office, a kiss at the DEO, a kiss on a rooftop. All of them near involuntary reactions to a crashing wave of feeling.

All of them nothing like a kiss freely given, and a kiss hungrily taken.

Of course, she’s been kissed before, and well kissed. The kisses that melt your knees and twist pleasurably in your gut and curl your toes and make you forget to breathe; the good, memorable kind of kisses.

This one puts them all to shame.

An ache ends, a longing eases, and anticipation is finally met. Lips, and tongue, and teeth; and the taste of her builds in Lena’s mouth. It something she cannot get enough of, the unique depth of it. Her hold on Kara’s face tightens, and Kara’s hands grip her waist. They’re not quite pressed against each other, but she can feel the heat of Kara’s body and the possessive ferocity that Kara is feeling.

And it’s impressive, truly, how Lena feels immediately better, feels whole and complete as if Kara begins where Lena ends. It’s how she feels when she successfully completes a project, when she drinks cold water after a run, when she laughs without cease as Kara does or says something funny. A sunny sort of happiness.

The trouble is: where does truth begin and where does the poisoned influence end?

Lena considers this briefly, as she’s never felt this joyful, this passionate before in a heightened, awake state. It’s something worth thinking about, talking about. Truly analyzing before moving forward. To be safe.

And then Kara unties and undoes Lena’s robe just enough to get her hands on her skin and Lena loses all interest in caring about _anything else._

It starts with a teasing sort of touch; fingernails lightly caressing skin till Lena shivers and pulls away from the kiss, gasping out. Kara pushes in, presses her forehead against Lena’s and rests one hand on the curve of Lena’s hip while the other slides ever so close to Lena’s breast.

“Inside,” Kara says in a low voice and Lena swallows roughly.

 _Yes, yes_ , she thinks. _Exactly._

The momentum that follows is near maddening: Kara’s hand pushes and pulls her, through the door and towards the bed, and without much preamble, her hands slide gently along Lena’s sides before pulling the robe off in one quick move. And Lena stands naked as Kara’s eyes look so dark. The room is cold but Lena feels nothing but heat now; a satisfying sort of temperature that soothes as much as it pleases. And the coiled cord of her desire tenses in her sex.

This is the precipice. This is the opening volley. This is how the tone will be set.

And Kara gets close, puts a hand on Lena’s shoulder and lightly pushes her down so that she’s sitting on the bed. Gets on her knees and runs her hands along Lena’s thighs before opening them.

“Lay back,” Kara says, and-- and--

Lena’s been eaten out before, and to varying degrees of success and sometimes by novices. The assumption, of course, remains that Lena is Kara’s first time with a woman.

What happens next makes Lena believe this: it may be a first time, but Kara did her reading.

That thought, that realization brings such a smile to her face.

And she’s halfway through the throes of an orgasm before she realizes, before she remembers that Kara is still suited up, still essentially _Supergirl_ with her face pressed in Lena’s softest of places and then Lena’s vision goes a blinding white.

There’s the vibration and sound of Kara chuckling against her thigh as Lena finally comes down from it, finally feels able to breathe in and out.

“You were a little loud,” Kara says, patting her knee.

“Then make me a lot loud,” Lena replies with only the touch of hysteria.

The pat turns into a grip, and Lena couldn’t close her legs now if she wanted to. And there’s no softness, no mercy in Kara now. A hardened repetition, without ceasing, without end. It’s delicious, the way she lathes and batters her tongue, relentless against Lena’s needy clit again, and again, and again, and--

Shockwaves erupt in the center of her core, and radiate outwards as she comes again, and at a remarkable length of time. Lena isn’t sure if she screamed out but when she moans, it’s all hoarse. Overwhelmed delight is met immediately by waves of Kara’s pride and pleasure; a vanity well deserved.

It’s not quite ice, but Kara breathes in air and blows it gently out against Lena’s wetness, cooling her. The temperature shift is wonderful and strange, and Lena closes her eyes and flexes her feet. There’s series of images that rise up in her imagination; how to reciprocate in kind, how to turn the tables.

How to make Kara better; put color on her cheeks and dash away those dark circles under her eyes and the slight tremor in her bones.

“So--” Lena starts.

“I’m not done yet,” Kara interrupts suddenly, strangely, and those fingers, those gloriously memorable fingers, slide through Lena’s wetness before thrusting in hard.

A curse leaves Lena’s mouth and she immediately comes, small and soft this time, before the next orgasm begins to build in the furthest reaches of her sex. It’s impossible to interrupt Kara on a mission, apparently, and Lena loses her grip on reality. Need drives her nearly out of her mind; she can barely register light and sound and the copper taste in her mouth from biting her lip too hard.

“I need you fuck me harder,” Lena says all too serious, and Kara gloriously responds with a sharp uptick in pressure and speed. And eyes closed, she pictures the scene from a distance, the expanse of her exposed skin and the red and the blue and the blonde of Kara, still on her knees against hotel carpet. It’s so absurd, it’s so perfect.

And that’s when she stops, and Lena lets out a little sob as Kara removes her fingers. Lena rises on her elbows to look, to puzzle it out as Kara lifts herself to her feet. “Sorry,” she says, out of breath. “But I need to see you this time.”

The adjustment takes moments and soon Lena’s pressed tight against the strange fabric of Kara’s suit and both fingers and a building ache return. Kara’s gaze is all curiosity and hunger, and if Lena was in her right mind, if she wasn’t being fucked into the mattress, she would stare back, project the bliss she’s feeling.

But, no. Instead, she writhes, she gasps out, and she shatters into oh, so many shards.

There’s a sleepiness that immediately follows; exhaustion from desires being well met, and Lena wraps her arms tightly around Kara, holds her close. Kara’s fingers run through her hair gently, and Lena loses consciousness just a little. The briefest of naps before--

\--”So, I don’t have much time left,” Kara is saying in a whisper. “I don’t mean to--” and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“You have to go back.”

“I should have mentioned it.”

“You can’t stay?” The words blurt out before she can stop them.

There’s a shadow of a smile on Kara’s lips. “You want me to stay?”

Lena blinks. Remembers herself. “I--”

“I can come back,” she says softly. “After.”

And Lena rises to sit up, stare down at Kara and wonder how many shades of danger the wrong answer would be. “Well, first things first, I need you to get out of that suit. This is a two way street.”

When Kara looks away with an embarrassed smile, Lena is moved to kiss her, and so she does. Sweet little kisses on her mouth and one on her nose for good measure. Simple intimacy with Kara feels good, feels like comfort. She likes it, likes it more than the fierce roar of desire she was feeling earlier. There’s something real about it; something that is _theirs_.

“I could kiss you for hours, but we don’t have--”

“--the time.”

Kara peels off the suit with an accustomed familiarity, pulls off her boots, shimmies out of her bra and underwear, and stands with her back to Lena, fidgeting with her hands. Lena can feel something like sadness in the periphery of Kara’s emotions.

It’s nothing more than terrifying.

Panicked: “I’ll be gentle,” Lena says. “And quick.”

And Kara turns. “What if I don’t want you to be?” she says quietly.

Lena swallows and gets to her feet. Approaches Kara like she’s a bird about to fly. “Whatever you want, I just don’t want you to feel--”

“--I want this to be real,” Kara says. “I want this because we want it, not because we have to want it.” She gestures wildly between them. “And I want you, I want _you_.” There’s a wetness in her eyes now and her voice is still so soft and low. “I could fall in love with you so easily, Lena. And I’m scared.”

And then Kara laughs, almost bitter. “And I need you inside me so much right now, it’s hard to think.”

Lena has a lot of responses, a lot of thoughts; rational and irrational. But she voices none of them. Merely continues her approach until she’s backed Kara against the desk.

At this moment in time, Lena feels in control of her actions; but, _by God_ , she thinks, _I really don’t know_.

Her hand clutches Kara’s hip before she lowers it and makes purchase between Kara’s legs. It’s sloppy wet there, easy to slide in and hold. Her mouth finds Kara’s neck before her fingers move any further, and she leaves a line of sucking kisses along Kara’s skin. When she’s trembling, when there’s a little hitch in Kara’s breath, Lena fucks in further before finding a perfect rhythm. Kara keens against her but stands firm.

With her free hand, she plays a little, and a little unkindly, with Kara’s nipples, and smiles each time she’s rewarded with a gasp, a curse, a low guttural moan.

Lena smiles for quite a long time.

When Kara, the defender of the planet, collapses against the desk after a deep and slow completion, Lena doesn’t make idle. Her lips press, her teeth bite, her hands caress. And her mouth-- “I’m going to fuck you again, if that’s okay,” she says, and Kara, speechless, merely spreads her legs wider.

(What Lena does not notice in this exact moment: the fabricated drive inside of her, inspiring her to acts of unspeakable pleasure, recedes into nothing; alien chemicals become dormant again.)

Lena is holding her close against the desk now, unable to let her go as she teases and caresses instead of returning to more forceful ministrations. Her fingers slide easily against Kara’s clit, playing there till Kara whimpers. And there’s a surge of feeling inside of her, of want and of fondness, and Lena pulls out to grip at Kara’s side to pull her even closer.

They kiss like never before. The intimate sweetness of lovers, shimmering bright as distant stars.

After what seems like forever, Kara smiles against her lips, grasps Lena’s fingers and presses them back against wetness. “You said you--”

Lena smirks and twists in her fingers so hard that Kara gasps, throws her head back, and breathes in through her nose. Pressing her mouth against Kara’s neck, Lena holds firm, not willing to let her go. And when Kara begins to shatter, Lena doesn’t let up until she fully takes Kara apart, till she’s a shell of a woman, eyes wet with tears, and the most blissful smile on her face.

And Kara whispers so low that Lena can barely hear it: “That was real, that was _real_.” After a moment as long as three heart beats pass, what else can Lena do but respond with a searing, affirming kiss?

She pulls away gently, licks her lips, and closes her eyes for just a moment. “You have to go.”

“I know.”

“They can’t live without you. Just--” And Lena feels so terrified about what she’s about to say.

“What?”

“When you’re done, when you’re finished. Come back. And I want you to stay.”

“You want me to--”

“I want you to stay.” _I want to do this again_ , she thinks. _God, for hours and hours, till we’re mewling pathetic echos of ourselves. Till we’re too exhausted to continue_.

And as Kara reaches for her suit, Lena grabs her wrist and says: “I just might be falling in love with you too.”

And she kisses her, light, feather light; lips pressed against lips to seal a promise.

 

 

 

*  
**AN EPILOGUE**

“Hello, lover,” Lena says, disembarking and looking up at the moonlit skies.

And over the phone, Kara replies: “You made it?”

“Statistically speaking, my plane is still the safest way to travel. You might drop me one day.”

She can hear Kara smile. “I’m going to change out your curtains while you’re gone. This room could be a little more bright. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Whatever you want,” Lena says, and sees a car roll up close to her. “I gotta go.”

“Don’t eat him alive.”

Lena smirks. “Talk to you in a few hours.”

“Be good,” Kara says.

“Never,” and Lena hangs up, shivering a little in the night air. She holds a little closer to her jacket. It’s hard to be away from home, from _her_ , but business dictates certain trips. Every day, it’s easier to be further and further away; not that she enjoys it, not that she wants it, but it’s good to have a sliver of normalcy.

The driver gets out and opens the backseat door for her, guiding her in carefully. Inside, a man in a bespoke suit nods in greeting. “Are you cold?” he asks, a little gruff. “I can--”

“No, Mr. Wayne,” she replies, and feeling quite content. “I think I can manage it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
#

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be three chapters and NGL, I have a sequel idea, _not gonna lie_ , of how this happily ever after morphs and changes and shifts through time and space. And if I wrote it, it might go something like this:
> 
>  
> 
>  **MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON NEAR METROPOLIS; CELL NO. 41940**  
>  In the midst of scribbles, he writes in code:
> 
> S U P E R G I R L  
> *
> 
> [Much more here, including GOTHAM PENTHOUSES and CENTRAL CITY VISITS and MAYBE SOME ANGST!!]
> 
> *  
>  **THE PHANTOM ZONE**  
>  Kara lands in the dirt and the sharp volcanic rock, and winces from the pain. There are cuts lining her hands and her skin, and bruises growing on her knees and arms. Rolling over to her back, she looks up at the pale sun and its rays alight her face but do little else. It’s a desolation in every direction, and she’s alone, completely and utterly. 
> 
> And like a cauterized wound still sizzling, she cannot feel Lena at all. Not a glimpse or hint or the vaguest brush of emotion, feeling, anything. With her head against rock and dirt, she stares up at the grey sky and screams.  
> *
> 
> [More here]
> 
> *  
>  **NATIONAL CITY; LENA AND KARA’S CONDO**  
>  “She’s not lost, Ms. Luthor,” the woman says in a strange accent. “We know exactly where she is.” Lena moves forward too quickly and her grip on her teacup lessens just enough that it falls toward the floor. But the woman reaches out, grabs it before it can smash into shards. “The trouble--,” she says, handing back the cup, perfectly intact, “--is getting her back.”
> 
> Lena squares her jaw, wonders what she means by ‘we.’ “Well, Ms. Prince. What is your plan?”
> 
> *  
> [etc~]  
> *
> 
>  
> 
> What is Lex up to?? How does the Phantom Zone change _everything_??? What happens when she, bloodsoaked, returns and Winn can make a cure????? What if Kara changes her mind about curtains?????? What if I address the Mon El issue again? (not happening, sorry not sorry; he’s on the other side of the Phantom Zone being a sad frat boy slaver princeling. Apparently he spends thousands of years there, so I won’t interrupt that.) Do happy ever afters REALLY EVER HAPPEN??????? 
> 
> Yeah. I should write this. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> *
> 
>  
> 
>    
> & fin:  
> BLESSINGS AND HONORS for my wonderful betas and cheerleaders, petragem and th_esaurus, and of course, to my beloved sideofzen for all her support and encouragement and demands for curtain fic. I love you ladies so much!
> 
> AND 4 SRRS BIZ, thank you for all the lovely comments!!!!!!!! They make my day and I cherish each one, thank you!!!
> 
> \-------


End file.
